Dream A Little Dream
by Sharma Wild
Summary: Dean and Sam visits an old house with a dark history. But all is not what it seems. The evil that lurks inside the house is something much more dangerous than your ordinary ghost and it wants Dean... Sequel to Stormy Please read and review!
1. Chapter 1

_This story is written by Alterra and myself as a part of our alternate re-telling of Supernatural. (Episode 2 from the Fictional Second Season of Supernatural. Originally posted on The Faery Court.)_

The sun shone brightly as the black Impala slowly rolled out of the garage. Dean had awoken before sunrise and had already been hard at work by the time Sam made his way into the garage.

Being a quick learner, Sam had figured out what tool was what, and with the, sometimes un-patient, teachings by Dean, he had actually been able to do his share of the job. His heart was filled with pride as the car was revealed in all her glory on Bobby's backyard.

Bobby came up to him, holding a steaming cup of coffee. "You did good, kid", he said with a smile.

"Yeah..." Sam grinned back, almost unable to take his eyes of the Impala. "She is a real beauty."

"Come on, Sammy!" Dean shouted from behind the wheel, making the engines sound as if the car was purring with anticipation. "Hop in. Let's take her for a spin."

Sam ran to the car and got in.

Dean gave him a wild eyed grin and pressed his foot against the gas, making the engine roar. They were off, leaving a trail of burnt rubber behind them.

It wasn't long until they had left Bobby's little junkyard behind and where driving down the winding roads that would eventually take them to the highway. One Metallica song after the other blasted from the speakers as Dean handled the car with expert ease.

"Are you happy, Dean?" Sam asked, raising his voice to be heard over the music.

"Right this minute?" Dean glanced at him then he smiled. "Yeah, I am."

Sam smiled back at him, and for once everything was alright in their world.

When they made their way back to Bobby's the sun had already started its slow decent.

Bobby came out as he heard them approaching, lifting a hand in greeting. "So?" He asked as Dean and Sam stepped out of the car.

"She purrs like a kitten", Dean replied with a wide grin.

"What are you boys going to do now?"

"There's a job waiting in Wisconsin."

Sam turned to his brother. "There is?" he asked.

"Yeah." Dean looked away, avoiding Sam's intense gaze. "I was waiting for dad to meet me by the place when he did his little disappearing act."

"So tell me about the job", Sam said, leaning against the hood of the car.

"Dude!" Dean exclaimed when he saw. "Get your butt off her!"

"Why?" Sam asked with a cheeky smile. "Are you going to kill me otherwise?"

"That is not funny, Sam." Dean glared at him

"Aw come on, bro", Sam retorted. "It was a little funny. Now tell me about Wisconsin."

"It's just a haunted house", Dean said with a shrug. "It has a nasty history but it shouldn't cause us any major problems. What do you say, Sammy, are you up for it?"

"Hell yeah!" Sam shot off excitedly. Dean winced purposely at his choice of words, bringing another laugh from Sam.

"You boys forgetting something?" Bobby drawled from the corner of the shop.

"What?"They said in unison.

"Ahhh, you both look like you need a week or two to heal some. Now don't tell me you aint still wounded", he hastened for the roll of eyes he received.

Sam tucked his casted arm behind his back. Dean puffed up his chest despite the pain in his ribs. Bobby shook his head unable to stop the smile curving his thick lips. "Jesus, you two are so much like your father"

The boys gave him a devil-may-care smile, taking it as a compliment.

"I think were fine. We'll heal on the go", Sam said as they started jacking the trunk full of their stuff.

Dean pulled the Colt 45 from its holster hidden in the trunk lining. He felt Bobby looking over his shoulder.

"I hope that last bullet finds its mark", he said thoughtfully as Dean froze, his eyes meeting Sam's.

"What?" Bobby noticed their hesitation as Sam turned slowly around."I used the last bullet on a demon in Mansion."

Bobby damn near bit his tongue. "What the hell were you thinking?" He hollered grabbing the colt from Dean's hand.

"Gee, I don't know Bobby, maybe save our lives, cause he was one nasty bastard that one!" Sam didn't realize he was yelling back until Dean laid a quieting hand on his shoulder.

"Sorry Bobby", he mumbled hooking his thumbs in his jeans pockets.

Bobby sighed turning the gun over in his hand. "Leave it with me and Ill try to figure out what makes it tick."

They both nodded as Bobby stepped forward pressing a wad of cash into Deans hand.

"No, Bobby…" Dean started, but he quickly shut him up squeezing his hand across the money pushing it towards him. "It's not mine, your father stashed a pretty good load over time and he knew who it was for."

"Thanks", Dean mumbled shoving the much needed cash into his pocket.

"Take good care, boys", Bobby said with a nod of his capped head. His eyes appeared a little misty as the boys waved getting into the car.

The black beauty rolled onto the dusty road thundering away to their next destination.

"You would be proud of those boys, John", he murmured as he took the colt inside.

~*~

"Tell me about the house", Sam said, leaning back in the seat, making himself comfortable.

Dean shrugged without taking his eyes of the road. "There is actually not much to tell. Dad send my out to French Landing in Kingsland, Wisconsin to investigate it. The house itself seems to go way back. Some believe it is even older than French Landing itself."

"What is it called?" Sam asked. "Maybe I've heard of it."

"It doesn't have a name", Dean replied, elegantly manoeuvring the big car between a old slow going tractor that tottered along at the right side of the road and a brand new Mercedes. The Mercedes driver honked his horn angrily, flipping them the finger.

"No name? That's strange", Sam commented.

Dean shrugged again. "The people I talked to just called it the Black House."

"Is it black?"

Dean glanced at him. "I just saw it from afar, but yeah, it looked like that to me."

"I'll see what I can find on the net", Sam said opening his laptop. "Is there anything else you can tell me to help to narrow down the search."

"It seems as if people disappear unusually often driving down the road that passes by it. Young men."

Sam turned to Dean. "Dad was going to use you as bait..."

Dean shrugged. "Yeah well, it wouldn't have been the first time."

"So..." Sam surmised. "French Landing in Kingsland Wisconsin, a haunted black house that is believed to have something to do with the disappearance of young men."

"Yup", came the reply

As Sam surfed the information highway, Dean put the car in a higher gear and pressed down the gass, leaving the other cars behind them. The road stretched out in front of him. He smiled and turned the stereo on, filling the car with music.


	2. Chapter 2

_This story is written by Alterra and myself as a part of our alternate re-telling of Supernatural. (Episode 2 from the Fictional Second Season of Supernatural. Originally posted on The Faery Court.)All those who post reviews will be rewarded by with a chocolate covered Dean. (He'll come and visit you in your dreams ;) )_

Three days later they rolled through a country of green fields specked with flowers, of trees where the leafs seemed to be dusted in gold as warm yellow sunlight shone down on them.

"It's beautiful", Sam said, admiring the view through the side window.

The sun was slowly setting, making the light even warmer and more golden as they rolled into the town of French Landing.

The scenery took on a dark tone as they slowed suddenly along the main road. A funeral procession was under way. A casket being unloaded from the back of a shiny black hearse.

"Looks like our cue", Sam said as Dean cut the music, finding the cemetery entranceway.

Dean pulled in behind one of the many cars lining the graveyard road. Both man hastily slipping into suit jackets and ties from the trunk. Adding weaponry, running fingers threw unruly hair they slipped false IDs into shirt pockets and put on their game faces.

Sam slowed as they came across the green well mowed grass .Weaving in and out of the beautifully detailed headstones and crypts. Coming on the scene made his throat tighten, his heart hurt.

A woman had just thrown herself across the gilded coffin .her sobbing and anguish heart wrenching as the brothers exchanged glances.

Moving in quietly behind the crowd they blended listening for any offhand remarks from the gathered locals.

Two men they presumed to be family peeled the weeping mother from the casket as the onlookers shuffled uncomfortably. The priest taking his place at the makeshift podium. Their men helping the grief bent woman into a silk clad chair.

"George was only 17", one elder woman gossiped to the next.

"I know that, Marge. Oh poor Lucy… She's not going to survive this I think", the other whispered back, unaware of the two standing behind them.

The boys caught bits and pieces of the unusual deaths. It did sound suspicious enough, Sam thought, even if no one mentioned a black house in relation to the deaths.

When the preacher was finished and the casket started lowering into the black hole of the ground, the men had to take the mother again and restrain her from throwing herself across the disappearing coffin.

"Pardon us ladies" Dean said in low official tones turning the two older women curiously in their direction.

'Yes?" the plumper of the two responded.

"FBI Mam", he said flipping out his fake ID, Sam doing likewise. "I'm agent Daniels and this is agent Morgan."

Sam had to stifle a small smile for the names of their favourite alcohols used.

"The FBI?" The woman named Margaret said. "What..." She trailed off, fanning herself as if she were too shocked to continue.

"I thought you said you were going to let the local police take care of the disappearings", the other woman said almost accusingly. "I called and called after my sister Alice's Johnny disappeared."

"The headquarter changed its mind, mam", Sam quickly said.

Dean smiled his most winning smile. "So, ladies, if there's anything you can tell us we would be most grateful. We would hate to disturb the family in a moment like this."

"Yes, of course", Margaret said nodding. "We will tell you anything you want to know."

"How many bodies have been found?" Sam asked.

"Just poor George", Margaret answered. "It is such a tragedy... Oh, poor Lucy..."

"When did the disappearing begin?" Dean asked, holding up a little notebook and a pen ready to take down any answer. Not that he needed to, Sam thought with a little inward smirk. The notebook was just a part of Dean's disguise.

"Three months ago", the plump woman said. "When Steve Baker never came home fro school."

"It's strange", Margaret said slowly. "I remember people... young men disappearing when I was young as well... but no one thought it that strange... Lots of young men around here made their way to Canada in order to avoid being drafted."

"When was this?" Dean asked.

"Oh, thirty years ago or something like that, it was during the Vietnam war."

"My father told me about men leaving never to be heard from or seen during the Second World War too", the plump woman added. "I guess we're not the fighting types here in French Landing."

The brothers shared a glance then Dean turned to the two women again. "Thank you so much, ladies. You've been very helpful." His warm smile and the glint in his eyes made the two aging women blush. "Say", he continued. "You don't happen to know of any old houses in the neighbourhood, do you? Old architecture is a hobby of mine."

"No..." Margaret started to say, but then the plump woman interrupted.

"Yes, there is that old house out in the woods by Highway 93, remember?" He turned to Dean. "It's an old abandoned house. When I was a girl we used to tell ghost stories about that house, saying it was haunted, that people went inside and never came out again."

"Did you and your friends visit the place?" Sam asked.

The woman shook her head, grey curls jumping around her face. "No. We tried once, but we could never find the road that leads up to it."

Dean smiled again. "Sounds interesting", he said. "Thank you again, ladies."

As they where walking away Sam leaned in and whispered. "You don't think that's strange, a haunted house and no one knows where it is?"

"I know where it is", Dean replied. "I saw it. I followed that little road she talked about." Then he stopped. "You don't think this is a real haunting?"

"There's something really wrong with these people, Dean. Its like they are having blank spots in their memories .Like they are being influenced. This house could very well be the source of power controlling the people, at least to some extent in the disappearances."

Dean was looking at him his eyes narrowed.

"What does the house look like Dean?" Sam asked as they started walking again. "Is it a farmhouse or Southern deco type?"

"I don't remember… It was dark and I only went up the road a ways."

He felt Sam's eyes on him, scrutinizing. "Don't look at me like that, Sam", he voiced with some irritation, eyes still looking ahead of where he was walking.

"You didn't go to the house because you were afraid?"

Dean stopped at the car turning angry eyes on his brother. "Like I said, Sam it was late, it was dark, I was alone… It was a long time ago", he added. "Things don't bother me like they used to."

"You were afraid of it", Sam said softly.

Dean gave him a hard look, thinking he would see mirth or teasing in Sam's eyes. But there was only concern. "Yes, Sam I was afraid of it." He could see him gulp visibly over the top of the car.

If something spooked his big brother he certainly wasn't going to jest it. This was the real world and it came with fangs, pain and blood on its breath. "Lets go have a look before its to dark then", he said firmly, his brow knotted

"Sure Sam", Dean said sliding into the drivers seat. "Let's step into the dead zone one more time." He smiled as Sam began humming the tune to the twilight zone. Putting the car in gear they swept out onto the road passing cars that were still parked.

Dean slowed, eyeing to lovely young ladies dressed in black standing next to a small blue Dodge Neon car. "Well well", he mouthed giving them that million dollar smile from over his tilted sunglasses. Looking at them through Sam's open window.

Sam sunk down into his seat. "Geez, bro get a grip."

"Oh I'd like to get a grip on that, Sammy", he mused as one of the girls gave him a bold wave, her long blonde hair glinting in the late sunlight. He waved back wondering where the local watering hole was around here. Perhaps drinks and some sweet scented company would boost moral...

"After we check the house, Dean", Sam said as if reading his mind, his fingers flying over the laptops keyboard.

'Killjoy", Dean snorted, putting the pedal to the metal.

'Its weird Dean, I cant find anything in this towns archives about the deaths ...its like one big erasure ..."

Dean nodded silently, turning the car onto the last stretch of dust hewn road barely visible through wild rose bramble and thick cloying hop vine.

"It's like a damn jungle out here", he mumbled, groaning when some bramble hissed thorny branches along the sides of the car. "That's going to scratch her new paint!" he moaned indignantly.

Sam was staring ahead.

Dean looked harder as they came into a small clearing once a driveway of white pebbled rock. 'Ill be damned", he whispered of the towering mansion before them.

"Some farm house", Sam whispered of the once glorious building. Its front porch greying wood and rotting pillars wrapped in thick sweet scented hops vine, its flowers riding across the mass of vines in a riot of sunny yellow, giving false warmth to the decadent building. Windows were either boarded up or broken out ,where the nails had finally rusted through leaving warped boards fallen along the buildings edge.

Something skittered across the far end of the porch, making both men yank guns and take stances.

A rabbit stopped, sniffing the air as it gave them a wide eyed look before hopping away.

"Us jumpy?..nah…" Dean said under a held breath.

"I really don't like the feel of this place at all, Dean", Sam said still in a whisper as if someone might overhear them.

Through the vines black stone walls appeared, as if nature had veiled the structure in her beauty to make it appear less sinister.

"Did it look like this when you where here?" Sam asked in that same hushed voice, looking up at the house.

"No", Dean said, he swallowed hard and took a deep breath. "It was darker... more..." He tried to find the right words to describe what the house had looked like but had to give up. "It was darker", he repeated knowing it sounded lame.

He pulled out his modified walkman and turned it on.

As Sam moved a little closer to the building he noticed that Dean was reluctant to take more than a step or two away from the car. Whatever had happened when Dean had been here the last time it had really spooked him.

Although the atmosphere was eerie he couldn't sense anything dangerous.

"I'm not picking up any EVP activity", Dean reported from where he stood in front of the hood of the car.

"Maybe we should take a look inside", Sam said, glancing over his shoulder. "What do you say, bro?"

Dean shrugged, careful not to show how his heart pounded. He followed Sam up on the porch, struggling to keep his fear from turning into panic.

The front door stood ajar and Sam peered in. He glanced at Dean and what he saw made him concerned. Dean was pale as a sheet, dark shadows under his eyes, sweat beading on his brow.  
"Are you okay?"

Dean nodded, jaw set. "Just my ribs acting up", he lied. "Open the door, Sam. Let's get this over with."

Sam pushed the door open; it creaked on its hinges. He moved inside, closely followed by his brother.

The interior of the house lay in shadows but at some point in time it had to have been grand. A flight of wide elegant stairs led up to an unseen second floor. Sam flicked on his flashlight and let the strong beam search through the foyer.

Dean had still the EVP-meter out and focused on it.

"Anything?" Sam asked.

"I get a small reading but it could just as well be electromagnetic coming of the old pipes", Dean replied.

They slowly made their way from the front door and into what had once been a beautiful salon. Dusty old velvet curtains still hung at the windows and above the fireplace a large mirror hung in an adorned gilded frame, giving clues to what the room must have looked like many years ago.

From the salon they came to a library. Here too the furniture spoke of past elegance.

"Strange..." Dean muttered, eyeing their surroundings.

"What?" Sam asked, picking a book from the closest shelf.

"Nothings been vandalised in here."

"So?" Sam looked up from the leather-bound book.

"So", Dean said. "When have we ever found a haunted house that hasn't been ripped apart by curious kids?"

"You said it yourself", Sam replied, putting the book back in its place. "Something made people forget the house."

"Yeah..." Dean said, scratching his nose nervously. "But still... I don't like it."

They continued their search of the house downstairs without finding anything then they returned to the foyer. Sam let the flashlight beam play over the stairs.

"It looks safe enough", he said, glancing at Dean. His older brother had gotten a little colour back and seemed to have calmed down a notch or two.

"We might as well take a look", he said, taking the lead.

The darkness was thicker up here, giving everything a gloomy hue that not even the flashlight could chase away. They walked quietly down a narrow hallway, their shoes sending up small clouds of dust as they stepped on the old carpet.

"This is..." Sam started but was silenced by Dean raising a hand.

"I got something", he said.

Same closed the distance between them and stared at the needles that were flying back and forth on the modified walkman. "Can you hear anything?"

Instead of answering Dean handed him one of the little earpieces.

Sam put it in and his ear was immediately filled with the scratching noises that sounded like static on a radio. And there through the white hiss he could hear a voice, a woman laughing. It grew louder and louder. He looked up just in time to see a white figure turn around a corner and coming towards them.

"No!" Dean's voice was edged with fear. "No!" He backed away, eyes wide, staring at the white shape.

"What is it, Dean?" Sam asked, unable to see what his brother saw.

"We have to get out. Now!" Dean was shaking, his face had turned sickly pale again.

"It's just a ghost", Sam started to say but Dean had already grabbed his arm in an iron grip and was dragging him down the stairs.

"We have salt, Dean", Sam said. "It won't get close to us!"

"Salt won't do us any good", Dean managed. "Just let's get out of here."

They ran down the stairs and even though Sam couldn't see what Dean saw he suddenly sensed a hand grabbing at him; ghostly fingers caressing his neck and shoulders, trying to hold him back. Goosebumps rose over his body and fear made his heart race.

They bolted through the doors and down the steps that lead off the porch.

"What the hell was that?" Sam asked, panting.

Dean turned to him, his face still pale, his eyes wide and dark with fear. "Didn't you see it?"

"I heard it on the mice… Felt something really weird… But I didn't see anything." His eyes riveted on the house.

"Well I seen it Sam!" Dean seemed so unlike himself as Sam turned to look at him standing as if ready to bolt. Not the fierce hunter he knew… not the fearless brother that was his...

"That's it Dean lets get out of here for now." Sam just had a terrible thought and as he looked at his brother's face his mouth dropped open. "No… No! Now Dean lets go!" He was already shoving Dean into the car seat. "Hurry! drive!" He yelled as Dean flipped the car into reverse spinning a thick sheet of dust and pebble in their wake.

"Talk to me, Sam!" Dean felt as if he was singled out, felt as if he weren't really there. "What's going on? What did you see on me! What the.. !!" Dean hit the breaks trying to avoid her standing in the road. Her face a thing of beautiful horror, her thick brown hair flowing about her shoulders. Her eyes... her eyes… Dean felt himself being sucked into those diamond white eyes as if a vortex he was helpless against.

"Christ, Dean don't stop!" Sam screamed as he almost ate the car dash, thumping his casted arm hard across it to save his face.

"Don't you see her Sam?!!" Dean yelled as Sam fought him for the steering wheel. Dean's hand went to the door handle, he had to go to her… had too….

"No Dean… No!" Sam slapped Dean's face hard. "Don't go to her, don't listen!"


	3. Chapter 3

_This story is written by Alterra and myself as a part of our alternate re-telling of Supernatural. (Episode 2 from the Fictional Second Season of Supernatural. Originally posted on The Faery Court.)_

He turned suddenly as if awakened to look at Sam, blood trickling off his lip from the blow.

"Drive, she's just a ghost, Dean! Drive dammit! Drive!" Sam jammed his foot into the gas pedal, forcing Dean to handle the wheel. They flew out onto the highway, fishtailing across the pavement before Dean kicked Sam's foot off the pedal.

"I've got it, alright." He was breathless, his face sweaty and pale.

Sam ripped lean fingers through his hair. Badly shaken he struggled for a deep breath.

"Talk to me, Sammy, what did you see?" Dean's hands were white knuckled on the wheel as he licked his bloody lip.

"Your marked, Dean, your marked by her… it… whatever."

'What?" Dean rasped back. "What do you mean marked?"

"I saw the emblem glowing on your forehead bro, a number."

"What was the number?" Dean asked, feeling terribly cold.

"17", Sam replied already hacking on the laptop, trying to find something. "How did you know salt wouldn't work by the way?"

Dean was silent for a moment. "It didn't work the last time."

Sam's mouth dropped in disbelief. "Just what the hell else haven't you told me, Dean?" Sam asked angrily as the town lights came into view.

Dean ran shaking fingers through his hair, making it even more on end than it already was. "I don't know... I can't remember. Shit!" He slammed his fist against the wheel.

"Calm down, Dean", Sam said. It wasn't often he saw his brother as out of control as this... not when it came to work anyway. "We'll figure this out."

They drove the rest of the way in silence, not even the beautiful nature surrounding them was able to lift their mood. As they turned into the parking lot of a motel Dean stayed in the car, letting Sam sign them in and pay for the room.

Dean sat there, still clenching the wheel so hard that his knuckles were whitening. He forced his fingers to let go, they shook.

He jumped when Sam opened the car door. "Room 28", he said.

Dean got out of the car and took the bag Sam gave him and followed him to what would be their home for the next couple of days.

The room was an orgy in light blue and laces. "Jesus", he muttered. "It looks like an old ladies church group exploded in here."

"Yeah..." Sam mumbled focused on his laptop. "I'm trying to hack into the police's database so we can check out the autopsy reports on that kid."

"Wouldn't it just be easier to contact the sheriff and ask for them, Agent Morgan?" Dean asked, raising his eyebrow in that sardonic way.

Sam looked up, a sheepish grin slowly spreading over his face. "I forgot we where suppose to be FBI agents", he confessed. "But since we probably should wait to contact the local police until tomorrow I might as well continue."

"You do that." Dean headed for the bathroom and a couple of minutes later Sam could hear the shower.

That means he feels better, Sam thought, fingers flying over the keyboard. At least I hope so.

Dean returned from his shower, a towel tied around his slender waist. He roamed through the bag that contained his clothes and pulled out a pare of black jeans and a black t-shirt with something that looked like the elegant loops they had used to decorate signatures and letters back in the 18th century printed in white on it.

"Where are you going?" Sam wanted to know, watching as Dean got dressed. A dreadful suspicion growing.

"To the nearest bar", came the reply. "I need a drink."

"Not without me your not", Sam interjected. "Your not going anywhere in this town without me." He stood slapping the laptop closed slipping it into its case to take with him.

"I don't need a babysitter", Dean said, almost back to his normal self again.

"As long as were in this town… yes you do." Sam crossed his arms, brows cinched stubbornly.

"Gee, Sammy, does that mean your gonna hold it for me to when I gotta pee?" Dean ducked as a heavily laced pillow flew at his head .

~*~

They pulled into the parking lot of the 'Roadhouse Bar." Dean flipping the ignition to off. Sounds of hard rock thrumming from the brightly lit building.

"Hear that?" He grinned at Sam as he opened the car door. "Def Leopard rules." He moved in an easy swagger towards the building as Sam followed clutching his computer case.

They went through the doors the heavy scent of alcohol and cigarettes permeating the foggy air. The dance floor was populated with churning bodies, the bar crowded.  
The two girls Dean seen earlier at the funeral looked at them from a tall table close to the dance floor.

"Look at that, Sydney", the beautiful blonde breathed as she watched Dean swagger towards the bar. "He's just gorgeous."

A drunken Sydney giggled over her rum and coke. "Yeah the Gorgeous and the Geek", she said noticing Sam's down turned head, the computer case held at his side.

"Gorgeous is mine", the blond girl said. "I saw him first."

Sydney pouted. "And what am I gonna do, June? Talk World of Warcraft with geek boy?"

June shrugged bare shoulders, her strapless blouse very white against her perfectly tanned skin. "He is kind of cute. Maybe you could find other things to do than talk, Syd." She winked at her friend then took a last sip on her drink and moved towards the two young men, her hips swaying.

"Hey there", she said, her eyes all on Dean. "I saw you at the funeral."

"Hey there yourself", Dean said with that smile that always seemed to charm girls and women alike.

"My friend and I would love it if you joined us for the evening", she said, nodding towards the table where her friend waited.

"Thanks for the offer", Sam said. "But we're really not-"

"We'd love to", Dean said ignoring Sam completely.

"Great", the girl chimed and wrapped her arm around Dean's waist, leading him back to the table. Sam sighed but followed.

Dean waved down a stressed out waitress. "A double JD, two drinks for the lovelies, and what are you having Sam?"

"Water."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Water?" Then he shrugged.

"Bottle or tap?" The waitress asked Sam.

"Bottle, please. And could I get a slice of lemon on the side?"

Dean rolled his eyes and the two girls shared a glance.

They waitress disappeared in direction of the bar.

"So, what's your name?" June asked. She had wrapped her arm around Dean's neck and pressed up against him, showing of her cleavage to him.

"I'm Dean and Mr Gloomy here is Sam", Dean said eyeing June appreciatively.

"Oh, Dean", she breathed. "Like James Dean..."

Sam rolled his eyes.

"I am June", the blond girl said. "And this is Sydney."

"Hi", Sydney said, shaking hands with first Dean and then Sam.

She was a pretty girl, Sam noticed with dark brown hair tied up in a pony tail and brown eyes lined with sparking green eyeliner. But in his heart he longed for copper coloured hair and blue eyes. He sighed.

The waitress returned with their drinks. Dean quickly finished his JD than pulled June with him out onto the dance-floor, leaving Sam and Sydney with a wink and a smile that made Sam want to smack him very hard at the back of his head.

"Wow", Sydney said, sipping her drink, watching June and Dean. "Your friend is a good dancer."

Knowing it was rude, but unable to care about it, Sam said nothing, simply watched as Dean moved to the music, his body in perfect control. He pulled June close to him, their bodies swaying together.

When Dean leaned in a little closer and captured June's lips in a deep kiss, he rolled his eyes and groaned.

"You don't seem too happy", Sydney commented. "Is it me or did I just catch you at a bad time?"

Maybe both" Sam said meanly, giving a gyrating Dean a scathing glance past Sydney.

He gasped as her drink splashed squarely across his face. Blinking in disbelief.

"You don't have to be a asshole and a friggin Geek too!" she sneered rising to her drunken wobbly feet.

Sam rose up wet and pissed glaring at the girl.

Dean stopped suddenly on the floor letting loose his hold on Junes body clinging form. Sam was drawing back his good hand like he was about to hit the girl!

"Sam! No you don't Sammy!" He yelled darting across the crowded room, leaving an exasperated June on the floor.

"Just try and hit me!" the girl yelled ducking as Sam swung. He made contact with Dean's jaw just as the girl whopped him in the stomach doubling him over in pain.

Dean fell across the table behind him, finding himself looking up at three smiling women.

"Hello ladies", he flashed his grin as one laid a well manicured hand to his sculpted chest.

"Oh so handsome too", she cooed.

Dean felt other hands on him, jerking him onto his feet. "He's mine, bitches!" The haughty June scolded the astonished trio.

Sam was still doubled over on the floor when Dean leaned over him. "Sam? You alright?"

He looked up, tears welling in his eyes, he was laughing so hard. "She even likes rum", He managed to get out as Dean hauled him to his feet.

"What the hell were you thinking, Sam?" Dean scolded him. "When have you ever hit a girl before?"

"She is perfect", Sam continued laughing. "I mean Jessica hated rum, and Stormy... She wanted to save that experience of drinking alcohol for later..." The laughter turned into a sob.

"Christ, Sammy", Dean said softly. "I shouldn't have let you come with me. I'm sorry."

Sam wiped the tears out of his eyes. "I'm alright", he said getting his emotions under control again.

"What happened?" It was June. She had managed to calm Sydney down and now she stood there, her green eyes wide and wondering.

"I'm sorry, darling", Dean said. "My friend here's been going through a rough time. His girlfriend dumped him."

The tree women who's table Dean had been sprawled across let out an: "Awww..." in unison, sounding like a demented Greek chorus.

"Poor baby", one of them cooed.

"I need a drink", Sam mumbled.

"What do you want?" Dean asked immediately.

"A bottle of Morgan", came the reply.

Dean raised an eyebrow but said nothing. He snapped his fingers getting one of the waitresses attention. "A bottle of Morgan to my sad friend here."

The waitress returned with the rum and a glass. Dean watched as Sam filled the glass and downed it in one gulp. "Are you sure you're okay?" He asked. "We could go back to the motel if you wanted to."

"Then you would just sneak out as soon as you thought I was a sleep", Sam said, refilling his glass. Dean snatched it from his fingers, lifted it to his own lips and emptied it.

June came up to them. Sydney had decided to go home and she had followed her to the door. Now she took Dean's arm.

"Come on, honey", she said. "Let's dance some more."

"You go", one of the tree women said with a smile. "We'll keep an eye on him."

Dean looked them over. The youngest seemed to be a couple of years older than him, and the oldest was almost old enough to be his mother. They seemed reasonably sober. "I wont be gone long. Okay, Sammy?"

"Fine", Sam muttered, refilling his glass again. He watched Dean being dragged out onto the dance-floor again, watched as they clung to each other, kissing deeply the music forgotten. It wouldn't be long until they slipped away, either out in the back alley behind the establishment, or found a hidden away corner somewhere within.

Sam sighed. It wasn't that he envied Dean, but why did it have to be so sordid? Just once Sam would like to see his brother let someone into that well-guarded heart of his. Somewhere deep inside he did realise that this was Dean's way of creating a counterweight to the horrors they dealt with, the darkness and the blood and gore that their lives were filled with. And that tonight, more than any nights, Dean needed it: the feeling of life flooding through his veins, the fire of alcohol and pleasure.

"Are you okay, sweetheart?" One of the women at the next table asked with real kindness in her voice.

Sam managed a smile. "Yeah, I'm fine."

When he looked at the dance-floor again Dean and June had disappeared. He sighed. He grabbed the bottle with his good hand and took the laptop, clenching it under his arm with the other, cursing over the casket that made him fumbly. He slipped out from the bar, breathing a deep sigh of relief to be out of the smoky and loud atmosphere.

Sam walked across the dark parking lot until he came to their car, he unlocked it and sank down in the backseat, lifting the bottle to his lips. It was blissfully silent. He closed his eyes, the warmth of the rum making him feel drowsy and light-headed.

Sam dozed of only to be woken by the sound of the car door slamming shot. Dean's shirt was still unbuttoned and he had traces of lipstick on his neck. And probably on other places of his body too, Sam thought with a little smirk.

"Ready to go back to the motel?" Dean asked, glancing at his younger brother.

"I'm ready if you are", Sam said, concentrating very hard not to slur.

Dean smiled and started the car. Sam's eyes fell shut again and the next thing he knew was that Dean was pulling him out of the car, keeping him on his feet with an arm around him.

"Come on, little brother, let's get you to bed."

Dean managed to unlock the door to their room and at the same time stop Sam from toppling over. Once they were inside he half carried Sam's tall, lean frame to the bed closest to the door, pulled down the blanket, and dropped him on it.

"Dean..." Sam mumbled. "I don't think I drank that much, honestly..."

"Dude, you all but emptied that bottle of rum", Dean replied, pulling off his boots. "Sit up so I can take of your coat."

With a little help, Sam managed. Dean pulled the coat of, throwing it unceremoniously at the foot of the bed. Then he pulled the shirt over his head and gently pushed Sam back to rest against the pillows. "Sweet dreams, bro", he said, brushing Sam's unruly curls back from his forehead, planting a kiss there.

Sam watched from under lowered eyelashes as Dean shrugged out of his shirt and headed for the bathroom to wash up.

"Do you remember what happened at the house?" Sam slurred. "The thing we saw... I think I know what she... it wants." The thought had dawned on him while he had watched Dean with June.

"What are you talking about?" Dean asked, returning from the bathroom, dressed only in his boxers.

"The... house." He frowned. It was suddenly hard to remember.

"Don't worry about it", Dean said sitting down on his bed. "We'll find the road that leads to it tomorrow. I know I found it the last time I was here. Just try and get some sleep. Do you want me to tuck you in again?" he teased.

"What happened then?" Sam asked, ignoring his brother's remark, wracking his brain. Something wasn't right...

Dean slipped under the covers, turning off the light. "I don't want to talk about it." He turned to the side, one arm propped up on the pillow.

Sam watched as his body relaxed in sleep, making his brother seem angelic and unspoiled. "Sweet dreams..." He whispered and closed his own eyes.


	4. Chapter 4

_This story is written by Alterra and myself as a part of our alternate re-telling of Supernatural. (Episode 2 from the Fictional Second Season of Supernatural. Originally posted on The Faery Court.)_

Sam woke suddenly sitting up he was alone in a dark place. He smelt sulphur in the air and his senses hackled.

"Dean… Dean…" He whispered looking about frantically, uncertain of his surroundings.

"He's not here boy… Not where we are", the all too familiar voice came at him smooth as velvet.

Sam stood slowly turning around, his stomach knotting, his heart pounding.

The yellow eyed demon stood in man form before him, his hands clasped in front of him.

"Why are you doing this?" Sam asked, his voice tight in his throat.

"You know why, Sam. Deep in that body of yours lies the darkness, a planted seed waiting to grow since you were born..."

Sam shook his head, fear engulfing him as he stumbled back, pressed against nothing yet unable to move. "I am my father's son, I am of my brother's blood", he said with conviction.

The demon looked down at his hand then raised it chest level. "You are of the chosen; you out of all of them have shown the most… promise."

Sam felt as if he couldn't breath as the demon pointed a black tipped finger at him. He tried to scream as he felt the finger press into him without touching, felt as if it were stirring his guts, moving something foreign into his body.

"No! I'll never be one of you! Never!" He was screaming as those yellow eyes came towards him, the pain growing inside his body.

Dean woke suddenly to the strangled sounds of Sam thrashing across his bed, jumping clumsily to his feet he lunged for Sam's writhing body. Grabbing his arms trying to pin him down. "Sam! Sammy ! Wake up, wake up!"

Sam's terror filled eyes snapped open, his body going rigid then relaxing as he realized it was Dean's face over his.

"Was it the dream?" Dean breathed the words.

"I'm going to be sick…" was all Sam could get out.

Dean pulled him up to his feet guiding Sam's staggering form into the bathroom.  
He fell to his knees, puking with gusto as he worshipped the porcelain god.

"Jesus, Sammy", Dean rasped, rinsing a washcloth he handed it to his pale faced brother as he looked up at Dean.

"Tell me you will do it, Dean… If I ever become one of them tell me you will do it… " His face blanched the cloth slipping from his fingers as he fell over the toilet again heaving his guts out.

Dean felt his words like daggers in his heart, he just couldn't let it come to that… just couldn't.

"Sure Sammy", he mumbled. "You ever drink like that again and Ill shoot you just to avoid this mess."

Sam tried to laugh, but his churning stomach made it impossible.

He felt the warm cloth laid across his neck as Dean leaned close. "I -will-never -let -it-happen", he stated, his breath warm across Sam's ear.

Sam nodded as Dean rubbed a damp curl from his eye. "I want to believe you Dean, God knows I do" he finally managed sitting up propping his casted arm across the toilet seat.

Dean sniffed the air. "That thing is starting to smell, Sammy." He grinned at Sam's frown, rising up on his feet offering his brother a hand up. Sam took it. As they walked out of the bathroom Dean caught him sniffing at the cast from the corner of his eye. He chortled softly.

"Lets get breakfast and go find this haunted house."

Sam froze, getting a strange feeling of dejavu. "Something's not right, Dean. Didn't we... Haven't we…?" He couldn't think past the throb in his head.

Dean was staring at him. "Did you do something else besides drinking all that rum yesterday?" He drawled. "Tried some funny pills maybe?"

"No, Dean something's not right. I made notes right after we left the house last night…"  
He padded over to the table where the laptop waited, plugged in to an electrical outlet. His fingers handling the keyboard with expert ease, searching file after file.

"But it was here, I swear!" he exclaimed. Then he trailed off... Had he really written those notes or had he just dreamt about doing it? "God..." He said shakily. "I must have been really drunk last night." He flicked off the computer and freed it from the chord that chained it to the wall. He rose, feeling sick and miserable and dragged himself to where his t-shirt lay.

"Did you get the autopsy report?" Dean asked, already half dressed.

"No..." Sam said, feeling that strange sick feeling of things repeating themselves. "I'll work on it over breakfast." He dressed himself slowly, feeling the nausea churn his stomach. "No fried food", he said, following Dean outside, wincing as the bright sunlight assaulted him.

"What!" Dean exclaimed already adorning his shades. "But it isn't breakfast if it isn't fried!"

Sam shielded his eyes with dark shades of his own, muttering gloomily under his breath. He wanted nothing more than to crawl back to bed but knew that his obnoxious brother wouldn't let him.

They walked towards the little diner that lay on the other side of the street. As they opened the door and stepped in they were met by the smell of newly made coffee, fresh bread and the delicate smell of pancakes, egg and bacon.

Sam turned green.

Dean grinned at him.

They found a table beside the window, shielded from the sun by blinds. Sam sank thankfully down on his chair, keeping the sunglasses on, still quite not ready to meet the bright and colourful world.

"What can I get you?" The waitress asked with a smile.

"A cup of coffee, black, a double portion of egg and bacon and a glass of OJ", Dean said.

"And what of you, honey?" The young woman asked Sam with a smile. "You seem a little green around the edges."

"A double coffee and some toast", Sam replied.

"Coming right up." The waitress beamed them a smile and hurried of to take another customer's order.

Sam leaned back in his chair a little, studying Dean.

"What?" his brother asked, not liking the scrutinizing glances he got from Sam. "Do I have something hanging from my nose?"

"What happened the last time you visited the house?" He asked. He knew there was something... not right, but it kept eluding him.

Dean avoided his gaze, studying the bottle of ketchup as if he thought it might turn into gold any minute. "Nothing", he said with a shrug.

"No", Sam pressed on. "Something happened. Something you're not telling me."

Dean slammed the bottle back onto the little tray where it had stood. "I got scared, alright!" He glared at his brother. "It was a long time ago. I was alone and it was dark." He shook his head as if trying to clear it. "I just... got... scared..."

"Did you go into the house?" Sam asked.

"No", Dean said, still not looking at Sam. "I-I couldn't."

"It's alright, Dean", Sam said softly, hating the look of shame and self-disgust on his brother's face. "It's okay."

"Lets just drop it Sam", Dean mumbled over his coffee cup.

Sam shrugged deciding it was better to leave it alone for now. He rubbed his throbbing temples, trying to figure out what was so wrong with this picture. The waitress returned with Deans heaping platter and Sam's toast.

"There you go, boys", she said with a cheery smile that made Sam want to puke again. "Let me know if I can get anything else for you." She slipped the bill under the edge of Sam's plate before moving down the line.

Sam had to look out the window as Dean shoved eggs and bacon into his mouth.

''Mmm this is good", he voiced as Sam winced.

"Don't push it Dean, I swear I'll barf on your plate", Sam hedged with irritation.

"Ah c'mon, Sammy", Dean grinned over as mouthful." Just think, the morgues next."

Sam swallowed hard trying not to think about corpses he plucked up a corner of toast and nibbled… slowly.

He was feeling a little better by the time they finished rising to get moving… Yeah that would help, just move for awhile.

"Don't forget the bill", Dean said with a sardonically arched brow as he made for the doorway.

"I don't have any money on me… Dean!" Sam smiled lamely at the waitress whose expression was not so forgiving of the bit of paper in his hand.

Dean stopped at the register and winked at the waitress threatening to put Sam to work on dishes. They left for the morgue with Sam huffy. "Your being a real jerk you know that!" He felt pissed now instead of hung-over.

"Feel better?" Dean asked as they pulled up to the county morgue.

"What? Yeah, I suppose." Sam returned a look over dark rims.

"Good", was all Dean said as he straightened his tie.

The soft overweight man behind the morgue desk looked a little to much of a candidate for deaths calling card as he shoved the remains of a jelly doughnut into his pie -hole.

'What can I do for you?" He asked

'Detective Starsky and Hutch", Dean drawled pulling his badge. "We need to see the files of the boy buried yesterday."

Sam was trying not to laugh at the ridiculous names but the fat man didn't even notice, getting all exasperated to find the paperwork in the over stuffed files behind him.

"Your really pushing it, you know", Sam hissed at a smiling Dean.

"Take it easy, Hutch", he grinned as the man waddled back over to them.

"H-here you are sir, I mean sirs."

Sam snapped up the thin file quickly reading the scant contents. "Cause of death -Unknown" He gritted his teeth in frustration.

"So that gave us nothing", he commented as they left the morgue.

"Alright", Dean said as he opened the door to the Impala. "Let's just go out there. Now. In broad daylight."

Sam hesitated. He couldn't shake the feeling that there was something not quite right going on.

"Are you coming?" Dean asked from within the car. "Or have you decided to ask Mr Morgue Guy out on a date?"

"Jerk", Sam muttered, getting into the car.

"Bitch", Dean retorted happily, starting the car.

It wasn't long before they were pulling down the dusty stretch of road. The brambles scraping the car doors as they went.

"Dam that's going to give her new paint scratches", Dean moaned.

Sam jerked upright. "You said that before!"

"Are you sure you're feeling okay?" Dean asked, glancing at his little brother.

Sam rubbed his temples. "I..." But before he could finish the sentence his mouth fell open in an O. "Wow..." Was all he managed, looking up at the house they were slowly approaching.

It was old and looked as if it should have been standing somewhere down in New Orleans instead of here in Wisconsin. Flowering vines wrapped themselves around the pillars that held up the porch and adorned the walls, making the house look like something out of a fairytale by Lemony Snicket.


	5. Chapter 5

_This story is written by Alterra and myself as a part of our alternate re-telling of Supernatural. (Episode 2 from the Fictional Second Season of Supernatural. Originally posted on The Faery Court.)_

"Did it look like this the last time you where here?"

Dean slowly shook his head. "No... I don't think so." He opened the car door and stepped out. Slowly Sam followed him.

"I have a bad feeling about this", he said in a hushed voice, feeling as if someone... or something was watching him. "What do you think we should do?"

Dean gave him that devil may care grin. "We'll walk up and ring the door bell of course."

"And what if someone opens it?" Sam asked, feeling the nausea return.

"We ask them a few questions. We are the FBI, remember?"

"Yeah", he mumbled weakly, following Dean as he briskly climbed the few steps that lead up to the grand entrance.

Dean pushed in the elegant little button by the side of the door and was rewarded with a sombre 'ding dong.'

At first nothing happened and Sam was ready to turn around to leave, but then they heard someone turning the lock and slowly the door opened.

A woman, perhaps fifty years old peeked out. She must have been a real beauty once but her face was streaked with grief and trouble.

"Yes?" She asked.

"FBI, mam", Dean said, holding up is ID card.

The door opened a little more.

"I'm Agent Moulder and this is my partner Agent Scully", Dean said.

Sam rolled his eyes, wishing he could strangle his brother.

"W-what has happened?" The woman asked, eyes going wide.

"We just want to ask some questions about the disappearances in town", Sam said. "Would it be okay if we came in?"

The woman seemed to hesitate and for a second Sam thought she would slam the door shut. Then, from somewhere inside the house, they heard a young female voice ask:

"Who is it Aunt Josephine?"

A girl came up to stand next to the older woman. Sam felt his jaw dropping again and glanced at Dean. His brother had already curled his lips into that million dollar smile and he sighed inwardly.

The girl had that exquisite beauty that was so sought after in the fashion world, but contrary to the bony emaciated models that staggered around on the catwalks, she had the figure of a Venus. Her perfect, unblemished face was framed by long, shiny curls of chestnut coloured hair. Her eyes... Sam couldn't help but to stare at the clear blue orbs. She had Stormy's eyes!

"Agents Moulder and Scully, miss", Dean said, flashing his ID card.

The girl giggled, hiding her mouth behind her hand as if surprised by her own audacity. "Like in the TV show?"

"Yeah", Dean said, smiling that lovely smile at her. "They had a laugh down at the head office when they pared us together."

"I bet", the woman, Josephine said, her voice sharp.

"We really must ask you a couple questions", Dean said, smoothly stepping forward and over the threshold. "It won't take long."

"Go back to your room, Dahlia", Josephine said in that same harsh tone of voice as she led Dean and Sam to a little salon.

The room was beautifully decorated. Velvet curtains framed the windows and above the fireplace there hung a large mirror... Sam stared at it trying to remember where he had seen it before.

Josephine sat down in one of the exquisite chairs and motioned for Dean to do the same.

"How long have you lived in this house?" Dean asked, pen ready, hovering over the little notebook.

"It's been in Agerts family for over six hundred years", Josephine answered, pride in her voice. "I have lived here all my life. My niece Dahlia joined my two years ago when her mother took ill."

"Mrs Agerts", Sam said.

"Miss", she corrected him.

"I'm sorry, Miss Agerts. Have you seen or heard anything... strange lately?"

She gave him a peculiar look. "Strange?" She asked.

"People, young men, have disappeared in the vicinity of the house", Sam clarified. "Perhaps you or your niece have seen anything related to that?"

"Me? I have seen nothing, and for Dahlia, you have to ask her yourself."

As if she had been standing just outside the door the girl stepped into the room carrying a tray with a teapot, cups and a plate of cookies.

"Miss", Dean said, taking the trey from her placing it on the table. Dahlia blushed prettily.

"Yes?" She asked.

"Have you seen or heard anything out of the ordinary?"

The girl glanced at her aunt before shaking her head.

"Are you sure?" Dean pressed.

"Yes", she said. "No one ever comes here. Isn't that right, Aunt Josephine."

"That is right, child." She rose. "Please excuse me if I seem rude but we really must-"

"Oh, but they haven't had any cookies yet, Aunt." Dahlia said, pouring tea into the cups.

Miss Agerts sank down onto the chair again as Dahlia served them.

Sam stared at his cookie. Somewhere deep inside his mind warning bells chimed.

"Is something wrong?"

He looked up to find Dahlia looking at him, her elegant eyebrows knotted as if she was so sure that something was wrong. He forced a smile, and looking into her beautiful eyes, he relaxed and the smile became natural. "No, nothing is wrong", he said, taking a bite of the cookie. It tasted wonderful.

"Taste just like the cookies mum used to bake", Dean said, already reaching for another one.

Dahlia smiled. "Perhaps you would like to stay for dinner? We always eat earlier, don't we Aunt?"

The woman gave her a strict glare. "I am sure the gentlemen have other plans, Dahlia."

"No..." Sam found himself saying. "We don't..." He frowned. That was not what he had meant to say.

Miss Agerts finished her tea and rose. "The garden needs taking care of, Dahlia." She said and walked out of the room.

"Do you do all the housework around here?" Dean asked, helping the girl to put the cups back onto the trey.

"Most of it", she said, giving him a woeful smile. "Aunt isn't as strong as she used to be... Well, I better do the dishes before I take care of the garden."

"Oh, we can do that", Dean said eagerly. "Can't we, Sammy?"

"Sure..." Sam frowned. Something... Something wasn't right.

But his suspicions disappeared as he and Dean cut the hedges, mowed the lawn and watered the flowers. The warm golden sunlight beamed down on them as butterflies fluttered around them.

Dean had taken off his shirt and stood now, looking out over the lawn. He stretched, muscles rippling.

It was such a normal thing to do, mowing the lawn, taking care of a garden. Here there were no feelings of guilt; no worrying about the future, no darkness... it was perfect. He smiled.

"Are you done with the hedges, bro?" He asked, glancing over his shoulder at Sam.

"Almost", Sam said smiling.

The patio-door opened and Dahlia stepped out. She was dressed in an ash-pink little sundress that ended well above her knees. "I thought you boys might be thirsty", she said smiling at them, giving them each a glass of ice tea. "Dinner will soon be ready. Why don't you get cleaned up and change clothes and I'll call when everything is done."

"Sounds great", Dean said, finishing the last of his cold drink.

The two hurried up the stair, happily talking about cleaning out the house's rain-pipes first thing tomorrow. When they reached the second floor, that narrow hallway, Dean suddenly stopped. A shadow of pain darkened his features.

"Dean, are you alright?" Sam asked worriedly.

"Yeah..." Dean said, pressing a hand to his chest. "I'm fine... It's just hurts like hell..."

"Let me se." He pushed Dean's hand away and gently ran his fingers over his ribs. "I can't see a thing. No bruises or nothing."

Dean shrugged. "I must have twisted something."

In your chest? Sam thought, but before he could voice his suspicion Dahlia called from down-stair.

"Hurry, boys. Dinner will be served in a couple of minutes and Aunt Josephine hates it when we're late for dinner." The last words were spoken with a little tremble.

They followed the corridor and went into their room to wash up and change clothes. After taking quick showers they went over to the wardrobe. It was filled with clothes. At first Sam thought they looked odd, old fashion, but then he laughed. Why, this was what he always worn to dinner in the Agerts house.

After having dressed they headed down stairs again. The hallway outside their room was warmly lit with candles. As they walked down the stairs they were met by the two women.

"You two are so handsome", Dahlia said with a trembling smile, tears sparkled in her eyes and on her left cheek a red mark, as from a hand, burned against the pale skin. "Don't they look handsome, Aunt?"

Joshephine eyed the two young men. Sam was dressed in a brown suit that brought out the colour of his eyes, around his neck a green ribbon was tied in a bow, the ancestor of the tie. Dean was dressed in black.

He looked like the bad guy in some old western, Sam's mind whispered. But the thought was gone in an instant.

"You are..." Dean started, walking down the last few steps of the stairs until he reached Dahlia. "Beautiful..." He finished the sentence. His eyes scanning the mark on her cheek. "What happened?"

Dahlia blushed. She was dressed in the same nuance of pink as before, but now her dress was a long flowing gown with a tight-fitting bodice. Aunt Josephine towered over the girl like a black crow.

"We mustn't let the dinner get cold", she said, her voice strict and cold.

"Of course not, Aunt", Dahlia mumbled. She was about to take Dean's offered arm when the woman pulled her to her side.

"You must help me to the table", she said. "My legs aren't so strong anymore."

"Of course, Aunt", Dahlia said, her voice was soft, but when Sam caught a glimpse of her eyes... Stormy's eyes... he thought he could se a fierce rage burning in them.

They sat down by the elegantly set table. High chandeliers spread the warm golden light that only could come from living candles.

"Before we begin we should say our thanks to our Lord for the food", Josephine said. "Who wishes to lead us in the prayer?"

There came another glance of annoyance from Dahlia, but when she noticed Sam gazing at her she smiled sweetly. "Would you like to say grace, Sammy?" She asked.

Sam nodded as if it was perfectly natural to say grace over a meal… as if it was something he always did… everyday.

_But you don't,_ a far away voice whispered in his head. He hesitated glancing around the table of expectant faces and when his eyes met Dahlias he felt...perfect.

He mumbled through prayer of thanks for this and forgive us of that, smiling like a cherub when he looked up.

Dean gave him an unusual bow of the head, something of a courtesy manner from years gone by." Very nicely done, my brother."

They passed around bowls and plates of steaming potatoes and pot roast. Bread and honey butter. Fresh greens from the garden. Everyone ate in silence for a moment. Sam, looking at Dean, smiled. "I don't remember having food that tasted this good."

"Indeed, my compliments to Mrs Agerts", Dean remarked kindly.

"I helped too", Dahlia couldn't help blurting, rosy colour rising across her pale cheeks.

"And thank you too…" Dean said, his smile glinting of something more than mere politeness.

He tried to focus on the food, but every time he looked up he found Dahlia gazing at him and his mind was filled with images of her... Her long, slender legs wrapped around his waist, the sensual curve of her breasts... nipples budding in his mouth...

He felt feverish. He brought the glass to his lips, drinking some of the wine, hoping it would cool him down.

Sam also had trouble keeping his eyes from Dahlia. In the light coming from the candles her hair gleamed in hues of red and her eyes... Her eyes had the most lovely tone of blue. It reminded him of something, of someone...

_Stormy..._ He frowned, his mind trying to grasp the meaning of that one word but it was gone before he could make sense of it. "Dean and I were thinking that we would take care of the drainpipes tomorrow", he said, breaking of a piece of bread.

"That wont be necessary", Miss Agerts said. "In fact I think you better leave right after dinner."

"But Aunt!" Dahlia protested.

The strict woman turned dark eyes to the girl. "Quiet, child!"

Dahlia flinched back as if expecting to be slapped. "I'm sorry, Aunt Josephine", she whispered.

Dean and Sam exchanged a look. Sam could see anger in his brother's green eyes and knew Dean could read the same emotion in his own.

The rest of the dinner was eaten in silence. Dean and Sam helped Dahlia clear the table and do the dishes.

"Is your aunt always this strict?" Dean asked, leaning against an old oak table in the kitchen drying the plates Sam handed him.

Dahlia blushed, eyelashes lowered. "She is just... not feeling well. Please say that you will forgive her and stay the night?"

"We won't leave you", Sam said, feeling heat rise to his cheeks. "Will we, Dean?"

"Of course not", Dean said, giving the girl a smile.

After the dishes had been taken care of the three walked up the stairs. Aunt Josephine had retreated to her own room, so Dahlia had said.

They stood in that narrow corridor, and Sam couldn't help but remember the pain he had seen on his brother's face as they had rushed up here before dinner to get changed. He glanced at Dean. There was no pain marring his brother's features now as he gazed on Dahlia.

"Well, good night then", Dean said.

"Sweet dreams", Dahlia responded. There was something in her voice that made those two words sound as a promise.

"G'night", Sam managed, his mind suddenly filled with constricting emotions. He followed Dean into the room they shared.

As they undressed Sam found himself staring at his brother, expecting his chest to be bruised. And his arm ached. That frown once again crept over his forehead.

"I don't like the way Aunt Josephine treats Dahlia", Dean said after having pulled on an pare of pyjama pants, as he slipped under the covers of his bed.

"No..." Sam mumbled. "Me neither."

"Did you see the mark on her cheek?"

"Yeah..." Sam turned to Dean. "Why did we come here?" He asked.

Dean's eyebrows knotted. "I..." He started. "I can't remember... Is something wrong?"

Sam thought hard. He thought about the garden, the happy smile on Dean's face, the sunlight and the butterflies... on Dahlia's eyes so sweet and filled with innocence. "No", he said, relaxing, smiling. "No, I don't think so."

"Good", Dean said, blowing out the candle that stood on the little table between their beds. "Good night, Sammy."

"Good night, Dean."


	6. Chapter 6

_This story is written by Alterra and myself as a part of our alternate re-telling of Supernatural. (Episode 2 from the Fictional Second Season of Supernatural. Originally posted on The Faery Court.)_

_WARNING: This chapter contains graphic sex-scenes and incestuous implications. As well as the usual spelling–errors and grammatical accidents. _

The room was dark. Sam just lay there, staring out into the darkness, waiting. After perhaps fifteen minutes Dean got up and padded on bare feet to the door, opened it quietly and left. Somehow Sam had known this was going to happen. He rolled out of his bed and moved just as quiet as his brother.

He slipped out into the dark hallway just in time to see Dahlia wrap her arms around Dean and pull him into her room, leaving the door ajar. Quiet as a shadow Sam moved down the hall and peered in through the crack of the door.

Dean stood with his arms wrapped around the girl. She was dressed in a little see-through nightgown, her long hair flowing down her back as she arched, pressing herself against Dean.

"Kiss me..." She whispered and Dean claimed her lips, moaning softly when Dahlia slipped her fingers inside his loose fitting pyjama pants.

Sam sucked in a silent gasp pressing his nose tighter into the door jam trying to get a better look.

"Lay with me, Dean " She whispered huskily, her voice sounding unearthly as Dean's hands swept her up, falling them across her pink and purple covered feather bed.

His hands caressed across her ribs and over her breasts as she arched for him, the nipples tight across the thin fabric.

Sam sighed as Dean freed the creamy pink tipped mounds. His mouth dropping onto one and then the other, her soft sighs music to them both as her fingers stroked his shoulders and neck.

Sam hadn't realized he had slipped to his knees. Feeling what Dean was feeling… What she brought out in Dean and through him what he was feeling as well.

His hand slid down his stomach, touching the swelling member in his own pyjamas. Lean fingers playing over the solid growing flesh.

Dean rose up on his knees, his upper body gleaming muscular and tan in the sparse moonlight.

"More, I want more…" Dahlia moaned in the sweetest voice, her fingers pulling his hips and sex free of the cotton clothing.

Sam gasped as Dean drew his hands across her body freeing her of the flimsy gown. Their bodies close, intimate and lovely. He felt as if he could burst…

"Take me, Dean..." Dahlia moaned. "I need you..."

Sam watched as his brother claimed her kiss-swollen lips again and had to bite back a moan. He could feel it, all of it, the caress of skin against skin. Dahlia's tight heat so close.

Dean moved his hips, burying himself deep within the girl. Her back arched, her fingers raked down his back hard enough to draw blood. The pain fuelled his pleasure and he flexed his hips, drawing back until she gasped and begged him to fill her again.

Sam caressed himself, matching Dean's movements. Desire rushed through his veins like a drug; it was more intense than anything he had ever experienced before. He had to bite his lips not to cry out as ecstasy claimed him.

"Dean... Oh, Dean..." He heard Dahlia whisper.

Sam opened his eyes to see his brother rest in the girl's arms.

"So young..." she mumbled in that sweet voice. "So strong and virile..."

And to Sam's surprise he found that his manhood was hardening again, that the orgasm hadn't slaked his lust. He watched as Dean caressed the girl, nipping at her throat hard enough to leave marks. Her skin had a golden glow now, a tan that almost matched Dean's and her hair... That lovely chestnut hair... Sam could have sworn it was shorter before.

Dahlia rolled them both over so that she was on top. "I will fulfil your every fantasy", she said, flowering herself onto Dean's manhood slowly, teasing him mercilessly, making him moan. "Just promise you will stay with me."

"I will", Dean said, looking up at her with heavy lidded eyes.

From his hiding place behind the door Sam gasped as he suddenly saw runic numbers burn on his brother's forehead.

Dahlia rode Dean in that slow tortuous way and with every move, every kiss and caress the tone of her skin grew darker, more honeyed and golden... and Dean... he grew paler and paler. Blue shadows started to emerge across his chest.

Sam suddenly realized he felt a slow pull on his own life-force. Looking down at his own body he felt as if his blood were thinning, his heart pounding. Forcing himself to his feet his eyes riveted then to Deans forehead. As long as he stared at the ruin marking he could think, could move.

Stumbling over his own flailing pants he dove for the bed, wrapping his arms around Dahlia's waist he took her off Dean's body and over the edge of the bed, tumbling in a tangle of bedspread onto the floor.

Dean felt air rush back into his lungs, felt life warming his hammering heart. Felt his body come back to him.

He stood suddenly and the pretty old fashioned wallpaper fell away, the curtains became tattered rags. He was standing in the decayed room of an abandoned house. The bed a rotting mattress of moldy feathers. A broken mirror, a staggered dresser filled with mice. Torn renaments of what was once a beautiful room… no more. Hadn't been for hundreds of years.

"Sam…" He whispered looking around wildly. "Sam!" he yelled as thrashing sounds came from the other side of the bed.

He flew across the sagging thing only to have a terrible face rise up to meet his. Her face demonic, her fangs bared as she had a strangle hold on Sam's throat. "Get off him, you bitch!" Dean yelled throwing himself onto her only to have himself rolled over with her on top. His struggling ceased as she made the connection once more. Her face beautiful again the innocent gleam back in her cornflower blue eyes.

"Mine..." she cooed. "Your mine, sweet boy…" She took his mouth and he let her.

Sam staggered to his feet, struggling for a decent breath when Josephine appeared in front of him. He looked around desperately for anything to use against her, but only rotted wood and tattered fabrics lay about. He stopped mid-motion as she began to talk.

"I tried to warn you off", Josephine said in ethereal tones... "I tried to warn all of them." Her glowing eyes turning towards were the creature was killing Dean.

"A Strega…" Sam whispered and all of it rushed back, the legend of the succubus. He knew what he needed then but where?

"In the garden, boy", the ghost said reading his thoughts.

The whole house had changed. Sam tripped over debris, over piles of rotting wood that had once been furniture. The image of Dean deathly pale, his chest covered in dark bruises urged him on.

"Quickly!" The ghost of Josephine stood in the doorway to the salon. "Hurry, boy, before it is too late!"

Sam followed her through the dark house... the black house. She led him to the French doors that led out into the garden. It was no longer a cheerful oasis but rather something taken from a nightmare; sixteen bodies of young men lay amongst the vines in different states of decomposing. They were all naked, Sam noticed. If he didn't hurry, his brother would become the seventeenth body.

In the far end of the garden there was the ruin of what had once been a chapel. Sam ran towards it, praying he wouldn't be too late. He kicked the door in, and there on a stone slab lay the succubus. It was a hideous, its features taken from a nightmare. Only the hair, the lovely chestnut coloured hair was untouched by time and evil.

Josephine suddenly appeared beside him. "I tried to stop her", she said, her voice only a whisper. "I was like you once, a hunter. I trapped her and put a torch to her but she was too fast and too strong. She grabbed me before I could escape and the flames engulfed us both. Only she survived."

Sam turned to her. "You where the one that made the people forget about this house", he said, realisation dawning on him.

Josephine nodded. "I did my best so that she wouldn't be able to lure more innocent victims here. She feeds on them, growing stronger and stronger. When your brother came she nearly got him. But I managed to break her spell then, made him see her true form and he managed to escape. But she took my spell and used it against him, making him forget the truth about the house and about her."

~*~

"Love me..." Dahlia whispered. "Be mine forever..."

Fingers tugged in his hair and her warm lips where pressed against his, drinking from him, making him dizzy with desire and pleasure.

From somewhere far away he could hear his brother shouting his name.

"Sammy?" He mumbled, trying to focus.

"No..." The girl whispered. "Forget about him..."

"I can't", Dean said, gasping as she pushed herself down on him again. "Sammy!"

"Is that who you want?" The voice conjured up dreams and thought so secret that he had even hid them from himself. The girl on top of him changed and when Dean opened his eyes he found that he was looking into those of his brother.

"Sam", he gasped.

"I need you, Dean", his brother whispered, leaning down, claiming his lips. "I know all your dreams, Dean..." Sam whispered, his breath hot against his ear. "I know what you want, what you truly want."

"No..." Dean said, struggling against the hands that gripped his wrists, stretching his arms over his head. "I don't want this."

Sam smiled. "Oh, but you do brother... See..." He glanced down at Dean's throbbing manhood. "I know you, the strong one, the one always in control, wants nothing more than to be dominated... to be at my mercy."

"Damn you!" Dean hissed, but unable to keep his body from reacting as Sam wrapped his fingers around the length of his desire and started to move.

~*~

In the chapel, Sam leaned over the succubus.

"Hurry", Josephine said. "Before she notices you."

Sam swallowed hard then plunged his hand into the chest, ripping at burnt skin, breaking of dry bones, searching for the heart that pulsated with stolen life.

From deep inside the house a terrible scream was heard, and then another scream joined it. Dean! Sam's fingers finally found the only piece of flesh that was still moist, still living. He winced, nausea almost overwhelming him as he grabbed the heart and ripped it out of the succubus. Blood dripped from it, coating his hands in red.

"Do it!" Josephine shouted to make herself heard over the screaming. "Do it now!"

Sam threw the heart onto the floor. From the pockets of his pants he pulled out two objects he had found in the kitchen: a small bottle of whiskey and a lighter. As he was pouring the alcohol onto the still beating heart a rush of wind suddenly blew through the ruin, making the dust and the leafs on the floor rise in whirls.

Suddenly Dahlia stood before him, Dean lying limply in her arms. "You are too late", she said, her beautiful face contorting. "He is already dead." She simply dropped Dean and he fell to the floor with a sickening thud.

Sam froze. His brother was as pale as the marble floor, his chest not moving.

"I can give him life back", the succubus said with a terrible smile. "Just put the lighter down and I swear that your brother will wake up."

Sam almost lowered the lighter, but then Josephine's voice was heard.

"She lies! If he truly is dead then she can only give you the illusion of him and his soul will be trapped here."

The succubus turned to the ghost. "You bitch!" It screeched.

Sam found that he was able to move again. He flicked the lighter into life and dropped it. The alcohol caught fire, engulfing the last living part of the succubus. She screamed.

Ignoring it, Sam rushed over to Dean, kneeling by him. He put a hand against his cheek. "Dean? Dean?" His voice edged with panic.

Sam took his head in both hands tilting back his face, about to attempt resuscitation on Deans pale lifeless body. "Stay with me!" He hissed taking a deep breath of air

Sam lowered his face to that of his brothers pressing his warm lips to Deans O so cold ones and breathed long and deep into his so still form. Nothing but the rise of sculpted ribs for the forced air. "No Dean, no! Stay with me… Stay with me!" He did the chest compressions then breathing everything of his life into Dean…


	7. Chapter 7

_This story is written by Alterra and myself as a part of our alternate re-telling of Supernatural. (Episode 2 from the Fictional Second Season of Supernatural. Originally posted on The Faery Court.)_

He felt a sudden convulsion in Dean's body, then another as he fought to draw air. Tears welling in his eyes as Dean's own fluttered under lucid lids. He was about to give him another breath for good measure when fingers clutched his neck.

"Dont...you ...dare ..kiss.. me…" Rasped the man in his arms.

Sam's eyes went wide with happy surprise. "Dean! You're OK ..or will be… "

Dean gave him a half ass smile and coughed dryly. "I'll be fine" He mumbled. The memory of what she represented herself in Sam's form un-nerving for him. They just stayed there for some time, relearning to breath, be normal, to see things as they truly were.

"Damn… She was good", Dean finally voiced more firmly. Sitting up slowly he felt as if a truck had run over him...twice.

"Yes she was" Sam agreed as they contemplated this one.

"Bitch" they said in unison, then laughing gruffly. Dean's eyes going over Sam's slender form.

"What about the ghost?" Dean asked, wondering if the job was yet finished.

"Oh I don't think we have to worry about her", Sam smiled wisely. "She won't be around anymore now that her jobs done."

Dean nodded thoughtfully not sure exactly what Sam meant but believed him. Rubbing a dirty hand over his spiked hair. Noticing Sam was… well completely naked. "Why are _you_ naked Sam?" he asked, a strange tone in his voice.

Sam could only laugh before answering, he was so happy his brother lived. "Look who's talking, and that makes two of the undead you stuck your tongue in… Not to mention something else!" He rolled away from the wild thrust of Dean's arm, trying to whack him one.

~*~

The forensics team swarmed over the site. Dean figured the entire counties police force was at the old debilitated house trying to figure out whose body belonged to what family. The town near hysterical for what it literally awakened to.

He gave the funeral procession filled graveyard a passing glance over dark rimmed glasses as they pulled out of another town. Another supernatural reality… solved.

Sam was worrying the dirt blackened cast on his arm with a small hack saw as Dean manuvered the finely tuned car along the highway.

"That's not supposed to come off for three more weeks, Sammy." His voice held genuine concern for his brothers determination to be rid of the smelly thing. "I was kidding about it stinking, OK?" he added nicely.

Sam gave him a hard sidelong glance and kept hacking away.

"Ok, so it stinks but you need to let the arm heal more", Dean persisted.

"Sure, Dean like you let your ribs heal", Sam tossed back heatedly. He broke through the heavy material with a wince of pain he hoped Dean wouldn't see.

"I saw that", Dean muttered, his sunglassed eyes on the road.

Sam stuck his tongue out at him like a little kid.

"Saw that too", Dean said as his phone went off. "Bobby!" He said exuberantly. "What's up?" Silence as Dean listened and Sam massaged his scrawny looking arm. Taking a disgusted sniff of the cast he tossed it out the car window to clatter apart along the highway.

"We're on it", Dean said, a hard edge to his voice. He looked over at Sam rubbing his arm then quickly dropping it into his lap as Dean raised a brow.

"What's the scoop?" Sam asked to divert his brother's attention.

"Vampires" Dean responded.

"Great", Sam moaned. "Where?"

"Lupus, North Dakota. Looks like a regular trail of undead left behind by someone real sloppy in a small unoffending town."

"A nest?" Sam asked .

"Dunno , just that there's enough evidence to prove there's been more than one vampire related killing", Dean responded tiredly.

~*~

Bobby hung up the phone satisfied the boys were on the next hunt. He went over to his work table slipping on a pair of spectacles for close inspection of the magic Colt in pieces across the wooden surface. He had been over each part so carefully but there was no clue to why it shot magic bullets. He ran a rough callused finger over the pentagram carefully carved into the guns hilt.

"Because it's the bullets, not the gun", came a strong female voice behind him.

He turned flicking off his glasses as he yanked a gun from under the table were it was hidden...for special moments like these.

Aiming it at the woman standing before him he gave her a hard long once over. "How the hell do you know this?" He demanded pointing the 7mm at her chest. "And who the hell are you?" She was slender in that athletic way. Leather pants painted onto her long legs and shapely hips.

She was model beautiful and biker tough he was sure. Her leather jacket cut loose over small tight breasts. Her face a high cheeked oval. Her eyes cut jade as she looked at him as if he weren't holding a gun. She gave her head of ash blonde hair a quick shake, settling the shiny mass about her shoulders.

"Because I do" She simply stated, her eyes going embolic black.

"A demon!" Bobby hissed firing off a shot without hesitation.

She bucked slightly on the bullets impact, but looked down at the hole in her jacket. "Ouch...that hurt", she said with very little emphasis. "Now are you going to listen to me or should I just get your guts all over my nice leather?"

'What do you want?" Bobby asked not still ready to put his trust to the fact that the demon actually hadn't done anything to harm him, yet.

She smiled then, so lovely if one did not look at those black eyes. "Yea nice to meet you too Bobby, I'm Ruby by the way", she said taking a step closer. Bobby held his ground but it was hard not to move back.

She held out her hand and opened it. A small pile of bullets lay on her palm. "These are what you need to make that gun work, Bobby."

He stared at the gleaming metal pieces. "You don't honestly think I believe you...a demon." His voice calm, his stance alert.

"The storm is coming…" she said more softly. "It's time to choose sides, and I want to be on the winning team." Her eyes went back to cut jade as she waited for him to move.

He finally reached for the bullets yet she withdrew her hand just like he thought she would. "Now what?" he asked wishing he had some holy water closer by.

"Put the gun back together and give it to me so I can give it to Dean."

Bobby was already shaking his head. "You stay away from them or I swe-" His last word was choked off by her delicate hand wrapped his throat lifting his heavy frame upon his tiptoes.

"That was not a request, Bobby", she said patiently, finally letting him down as he began to turn blue. "I'll repeat this only once, I want to be on the winning team."

Bobby was utterly floored by her demeanour. Was it possible for a demon to be honest? He did as she said, deciding the gun wasn't worth it if he couldn't get it to work anyway.

He turned and held it out to her. "How do I know your not a typical lying piece of shit?" his words bold.

She smiled rather savagely as she took the gun. "You don't."

Bobby gazed around but she was gone.

The end.


End file.
